Disclaimers: If they were mine, I wouldn't be *here*.

Spoilers: Vague ones up through Outsiders #11 or so.

Summary: Grace and Anissa bond.

Ratings Note: NC-17.

Author's Note: I need a reason?

Acknowledgments: To Livia, Jack, and L.C. for
audiencing, encouragement, and helpful
suggestions.

*

Grace's apartment is kind of a surprise. It's neat, for
one thing, and the whole place comes off as... airy.
Which Anissa supposes makes sense. Grace couldn't
live in just *any* apartment. The part of her that's
only a year away from comparison shopping for
student housing wonders just how much you'd have
to pay for ceilings this high in Manhattan.

Then again, a year ago, she wasn't getting paid
what could only be described as a phenomenal
amount of money for... being a hero.

And... okay, a few issues there. Her *father* never
got paid for this sort of thing, and it feels kind of
wrong to take money for it, but then --

"Didn't think he was your type." There's a smirk in
Grace's voice.

Anissa blinks, and realizes that she's apparently
been staring at Grace's poster of Ozzy Osbourne
for... who knows how long. Ew. "Er... he really
isn't."

There's a serious *creak* from behind her that's
probably Grace settling in on her admirably large
couch. "Then...?"

Anissa looks back over her shoulder and, sure
enough, Grace is doing her unconscious best to
make the couch look tiny, not to mention the
beer bottle that looks almost toy-like in her hand.
Anissa shrugs. "Just thinking about the money."

"I wondered when you would." Grace takes a
long swallow.

"I'm sorry...?"

A snort. "God, you're cute. I just figured that if
*any* of us started having issues about getting
paid for this gig, it'd be you."

"I'm not... okay, I am. A little."

"Cops pull a check. Firemen pull a check." Grace
shrugs. "Stop worrying. You'll give yourself
wrinkles."

"But --"

"I've been working security pretty much forever,
kid. This is just... another way to do it."

Anissa crosses her arms and leans back against
the wall. "We're more than 'security.'"

Another smirk. "Bet your ass we are. Hence the
bigger paycheck."

"I don't know, Grace. I mean... it's a little off.
'Sure, we'll use our miraculous powers to save
you from the evil supervillains, just as soon as
your check clears?'"

"You know, I've actually been thinking about
this."

"I'm listening."

"You remember that talk we had about your Dad?
About how he was one of the first?"

Anissa nods.

"Okay, see..." Grace gestures vaguely with the
bottle. "Maybe there's a *reason* why he was
one of the first. Like... all of these old White
guys with their hideouts and their souped-up
cars and their *equipment*. It costs, you know?"

She grins at the floor. "Dad used to tell me
stories about how much time he spent trying to
come up with a suit that wouldn't rip to shreds
every time he got into a fight."

"*Exactly*. And you know, working that Ozzy
concert was a kick, and it paid pretty well, but
it didn't pay *Pequod*-well, you know? And,
what, I was supposed to work two jobs so I
could afford to fight crime? Fuck that noise."

"Heh. Optitron should put that in their next
press release. 'Subsidizing multicultural
vigilantism since 2003.'"

Grace grins at her over the lip of the beer bottle.
"Spoken like a girl who didn't apply for a single
scholarship."

Anissa blinks. "Oh, we are *not* gonna get into
the Affirmative Action thing."

"*You're* the one who brought up the money,
princess. I'm just taking it to its natural
conclusion."

"You're just *fucking* with me, is what you're
doing, Grace."

Grace grins a little wider. "That, too. Hey, if it
bugs you so much, donate your paycheck to
some cute little orphans. Me? I think I'll go
shopping."

Anissa takes a long, obvious look around. "Well.
It's not like this place couldn't use it."

"Gonna give it the feminine touch? Buy me some
window treatments? What the fuck is a 'window
treatment,' anyway? Can't they just say curtains?"

"Maybe you should start small.. Like finding a
shirt that fits."

Grace flips her off. "Pot and kettle, cleavage girl.
At least I don't have to strip naked when I want
to take a piss."

Anissa gives Grace her best sincere look. "My
uniform honors my father's heritage as a hero."

Grace snickers at her, loud and honestly, and
Anissa smiles at the floor. It's... a little odd being
here. She kind of got the feeling that Grace only
invited her back because Arsenal was training
with Nightwing and she was bored. Anissa isn't
entirely sure why she *accepted*, beyond the
fact that she didn't really have anything better
to do and...

She didn't want to be the antisocial one on the
team. Nightwing is doing a damned good job
with that all by himself, and it's not like
Huntress had been all that fun to be around,
either.

And now that she *is* here...

It really is kind of her move, whatever that
move will be. Grace didn't have much to offer
a guest here other than beer and pretzels,
which Anissa had already refused. She's more
of a cider person, and she really needs to stop
staring at the floor like an idiot. She can come
up with something to say. She can.

She's...

Completely failing.

Grace is frowning vaguely at her nails. Which is
something.

"Do you... do you ever get them done? I mean...
professionally."

Grace raises an eyebrow at her.

She really did just ask the woman about
manicures. Crap. "I mean --"

"Security isn't really the kind of career that allows
for a nice manicure, princess."

Anissa winces. "Yeah. I didn't really... think." It
hadn't taken a week of patrolling before her
own nails were pretty much destroyed. She can
either concentrate on making her fingers
super-dense -- and thus break everything she
touches -- or just keep her nails short. "Sorry.
I'm just..."

"Feeling a little awkward?" Grace is rolling the
bottle between her palms, and Anissa wonders
if she'd had to teach herself not to crush things
that way.

Probably. "A little."

Grace gives her the kind of smile that wouldn't
look out of place on some of her older relatives.
"You know, I didn't actually expect us to be best
girlfriends or anything."

"That doesn't seem like something you'd be
interested in, no."

"I *did*, however, expect you to eventually sit
the fuck down."

"Er --"

"C'mon, we can watch television or something.
Maybe there's some weepy chick movie on and
we can sigh over Brad Pitt's abs and the fate
of women in man's cruel, cruel world."

Anissa stands up off the wall and gets a little
closer. "*That* doesn't seem like your thing,
either."

"Well, fuck no, but I'm *trying* to be a good
host. You can invite me over next week and show
me a tractor-pull."

Anissa blinks again. "You like tractor-pulls?"

Grace's grin is wolfish as she reaches out and
*yanks* Anissa onto the couch. "No, but I bet
you *think* I would."

Anissa pulls herself vaguely upright and mostly
off Grace's lap. "You think I've made that kind
of assumption about you?"

"'That kind of assumption.' Cute as a *bug*."
Grace throws one arm over Anissa's shoulders
and pulls the remote out from under the
farthest couch cushion.

Anissa stares at Grace's hand.

Grace flips through the channels. "I think you've
been trying to figure out what *kind* of dyke
I am since you got a good look at me, princess."
She pats Anissa's shoulder and keeps flipping.
"You want me to make it easy on you, just ask."

"Er... I thought you and Roy...?"

"Are fucking like weasels whenever we get a
chance? Absolutely." Grace's grin is even wider.

"Well, this... I mean... I sort of assumed you
were... er... straight."

"Ooh, Near Dark is on. I need to own that
DVD."

Grace likes quirky horror movies. Anissa makes
note.

"I think I am. Mostly. I mean, I pretty much quit
trying to figure out the boring details once I hit
'sex, yay.' Why kill myself angsting about it? It's
not like most people *don't* take one look at my
biceps and assume I'm a dyke."

"And your boots."

Grace snorts. "*You* try to buy cute shoes when
you're a size sixteen wide."

Anissa settles back against Grace's arm and
watches the stupid girl vampire flirt with the
stupid boy sort-of-vampire. "There's always the
drag queen stores."

Grace raises an eyebrow at her.

"I don't know too many *seven* foot tall women,
but six footers aren't that rare where I come
from."

The smile on Grace's face is a little off this time,
and she stares down at her boots.

Anissa *feels* like she'd maybe said something
wrong, but she doesn't have a clue what that
might be. "Um..."

"I like shoes. And manicures."

"Okay...?"

"You walk in a place like that, looking like me..."
Grace shrugs. "Anyway."

She doesn't actually need Grace to finish that
sentence. It must be nice to be someone like
Superman, who'd probably look just like anyone
else -- and not even that much bigger -- if he
was wasn't running around in that suit.

Grace would perch on one of those little stools
and look silly, if she didn't just break them. "We could
always go together."

A narrow-eyed look. It'll be witchier when Grace's
hair has grown out again and she can go back to
teasing it into that weird punk thing she has going
on. As it is, she just kind of looks cute.

"You can help me pick out a better wig, and then
we can go to a tractor pull."

On-screen, the creepy little boy vampire is hitting
on the cute little girl human. "Look, Anissa..."

Grace doesn't say her name that often. "And then
we can go beat each other up in the bunker's gym
so no one can say we're being too girly."

Grace snorts again and shakes her head. "I didn't,
actually, invite you over here so I could cry
frustrated-girl tears on your shoulder."

"No, you brought me over here to *hit* on me."

A rueful smile. "But you like this better."

"I didn't say that. You keep trying to make me
blush, one of these days it might work."

Like now. She isn't, though. Not really.

Not even when Grace puts two fingers under her
chin and tilts her face up and leans in and --

Bites her neck, growling -- that's probably Grace's
version of playful.

"You don't kiss?"

"Not on the first date," Grace says, and licks her
way up to Anissa's ear.

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh,'" and Grace's teeth are hard and wet
against her cheek. "You *are* cute. I've mentioned
that, right?"

"Once or twice. That's enough for you?"

Grace licks her ear again, and it makes Anissa
*want* to shake. "Hey, movies, invite out to get
our nails done, deep emotional crap... we're
practically *dating* now, princess."

Anissa does her best to catch her breath. "I like it
better when you call me by name."

"Mmm, Anissa, Anissa, Anissa." Grace cups her
throat with one hand -- one big, hard, *strong*
hand, and tilts her head a little further to the
side. "What do you like, Anissa?"

This. More biting. "You know, you never actually
asked me what *my* sexuality is."

"Who says I care?" And Grace bites her earlobe
and strokes her way down her chest, pushing
between the bodice of the suit and her skin. "You
might say something silly about being straight,
and *then* where would we be?"

"On your couch, making out anyway?"

Grace laughs. "That's what *you* think, 'nissa. I
don't fuck straight girls."

And she could definitely laugh about that -- she
could laugh a *lot* -- but mainly she's busy
being rolled down onto her back and getting
stripped and getting -- kissed.

Grace tastes a lot like beer and a little like
*amusement*, if that even has a taste, and --

"I thought you didn't kiss on the first date," she
says, or tries to. It's hard to talk around Grace's
tongue.

"It's after midnight. Second date."

"You're making this up as you go along, aren't
you?"

"Shut up and help me get this thing *off* of
you."

Anissa grins and sits up, reaching up and back
for the zipper and getting yanked forward, back
into Grace's lap.

"*Mine*," Grace says, and unzips Anissa herself,
yanking the suit down and mostly off and staring
at her breasts. *Really* staring, like a starving
man in front of one of her mom's holiday
dinners.

Anissa smirks and jiggles and thinks seriously
about saying something about how Grace
*could* just pull her own shirt out if she wanted
to see a nice pair of boobs, but then thinking is
kind of overrated, because... because.

A lot of boys have, when given the opportunity,
treated her nipples like suck-toys, but Grace is
*serious* about it, humming and sucking and
nibbling and generally making it hard for Anissa
to remember why she doesn't shove people's
heads at her chest all the *time*.

"Mm," is what she manages to get out, and then
there aren't many coherent sounds at all,
because Grace is *growling* again.

"How much can you take?"

"What...?"

"You're pretty strong when you make yourself
dense, so..."

"Oh... I. Um."

She takes it back. That narrow-eyed look is
*plenty* witchy, especially since Grace *bites* her
nipple and Anissa hears herself squeak and makes
herself dense nearly on reflex. Grace oofs and
laughs and holds on, muscles straining in her
arms and --

"Oh God --"

Another growl and then Grace pushes them,
*launches* them off the couch, and Anissa
doesn't have time to make herself a normal
weight again and she hears a *crack*, but...
they don't fall through the floor. Good enough.
Good --

"Jesus, Grace --"

Biting her way *down* Anissa's body, tugging
on the suit until it's bunched up around her
thighs and shoving her tongue into Anissa's
belly button and then licking her way back up
to her mouth.

Anissa sucks Grace's tongue *in* and she
can't tell which of them is making that
humming sound, and she doesn't think she
cares. She shoves her hands into Grace's hair
and wriggles and kicks until she can get the
suit off past her boots and humps *up*
before she can think.

"Mmm. Sex toys in the bedroom, 'nissa."

"Er."

"We'll save that for the fourth date."

Which will be ten minutes from now, considering,
but... it's been a while. That's what she's going
to tell herself. Not since school, and she'd been
more concerned with keeping her GPA as high
as she could than with getting a *date*, and
Grace's hands really are *big*, wrapping around
her waist and sliding up her chest and -- "Nnn."
Pinching and twisting her nipples for just -- not
long *enough*, before moving up to her face.

Anissa bites Grace's thumb when she brushes it
over her mouth, but even that doesn't make her
slow down. She tugs off Anissa's wig and tosses
it and straddles her and *grinds* and pets
Anissa's arms and...

It's somewhere between being played with and
being *explored*, and the look in Grace's eyes
is bright and avid and *curious*. Very much a
*first* time look, like maybe once she figures
out *what* Anissa likes she's not actually
going to stop.

The thought makes her heart pound. Or maybe
it's the feel of the calluses on Grace's palms
rubbing up against her nipples, making her
arch and --

"Grace, please --"

"Absolutely." And Grace has the kind of grin that
always makes Anissa want to double-check to
make sure she doesn't have fangs. She doesn't,
just lots of shiny white teeth, hidden for just a
moment while Grace yanks off her shirt. The
bra is next, and it's nice to see it gone on a
number of levels.

It's not like Anissa doesn't understand *why*
a woman who spends as much of her life
fighting as Grace does would wear one, it's
just that the lacy thing looks *incongruous*
against all of that golden muscle.

And Grace's breasts really deserve to spend as
much time as possible... exposed.

Grace snorts and jiggles at her.

Maybe she was doing some staring, too.

She reaches up and cups Grace's breasts,
pushing until she can feel the weight of them
against her palms, and then just pressing,
because Grace has incredible pecs for... well, for
*anyone*, and Anissa's nowhere near immune to
*that*.

Grace stares down at her, violet eyes glittering
and *steady*, even when her nipples start
hardening against Anissa's fingers. Anissa
swallows and thinks about all the things she
could do, all the things Grace might *want* her
to do, and she can't really decide if she's
intimidated or just stupid with lust.

'Sex yay,' right.

She grins up at Grace and brings her knee up,
shifting and pushing on Grace until she drops
enough so that Anissa can rub at her sex through
her cut-offs. And it's *denim*, but the heat of
her comes right through. She's *wet* under
there, and she rocks hard enough that Anissa
has to dense herself up just to stay *still*
and --

"Oh, *nice* -- *fuck* --"

That was for pinching her nipples, or maybe for
the way Grace is grinding against her knee.
Anissa thinks if she made herself any lighter
Grace would be *moving* them, and the image
in her head makes her *flex*. She can feel
herself sweating, and she's naked except for
her boots, and she can *smell* herself.

She can smell Grace, too.

And Grace isn't smiling anymore, just... it's
almost a *glare*, but it doesn't look angry. Her
mouth is hanging open, and she licks her lips
while Anissa watches, eyes narrowing further.
Every grind just feels wetter, dirtier, and
there's sweat rolling down between Grace's
breasts, faster when Grace *pants*, and Anissa
bites her lip and pinches Grace's nipples harder.

Grace gasps and does it again when Anissa just
holds the pressure, and then she *moans*, loud
and long, and Anissa hasn't been this wet in a
*long* time. She tries to squirm as little as
possible -- she gets the feeling Grace wants her
to keep her knee *right* there -- but has to growl
a little herself. She *wants*.

And then Grace closes her eyes and tilts her head
back and Anissa can't decide if it's a goad or an
excuse. It doesn't matter. She takes one hand off
Grace's breast and moves it between her thighs,
and... *God*. She's so wet that she has to
actually pinch her own clit before she can really
feel *anything*, and she can't keep herself from
doing it in the same rhythm she's using on
Grace's nipple, and that's just...

She moans before she can stop herself, and
Grace looks down at her again, eyes going wide
before narrowing with hot, raw *hunger*.

Anissa really wants to say something witty, or at
least something *distracting*, but she can't
really make herself make *words*, as opposed
to noise. Something about touching Grace just
the way she's touching herself. Something about
the way she can feel just how wet Grace is
through those little shorts, about the way the
sweat makes Grace's tattoos gleam like her eyes
and -- "Grace."

Her voice is wrong to her own ears, rough and
husky and desperate, and she wants to hear it
again.

"*Grace* --"

"Oh, *yeah*." And Grace covers Anissa's hand on
her breast with one of her own and reaches down
with the other, tracing a blunt fingertip over and
over Anissa's lips until Anissa has to gasp again.
And then pushing it in, slow and hot, and Grace
tastes like sweat. Anissa licks and sucks and
watches Grace pant, feels her *grind* down on
her knee, over and over.

And Grace pushes her finger in deeper, oddly
delicate-looking pink tongue slipping out between
her teeth. Anissa wants to suck that, too. Wants
to just -- she isn't sure *what* she wants, and
suddenly Grace laughs again.

"Every man in this *building* is pitching a tent
right now and they have no idea why. Suck it,
Anissa. Here, I'll give you another."

And it's... it's *obscene*. Two Grace-sized fingers
stretching her lips and *fucking* her mouth, and
Anissa moans and stares up into Grace's eyes
and shifts her fingers on Grace's breast just
enough to scrape at her nipple with her pitifully
short nails.

Grace hisses between her teeth and bucks.
"Fuck, do that -- *fuck* yeah. I'm so close --"

Close to coming. She's going to make Grace
*come*, and Anissa isn't sure if she's breathing
anymore. She isn't sure she remembers *how*
to breathe, but that kind of makes it better. She
scratches ragged little circles around and around
Grace's nipple and bounces her foot a little.

She's dense enough that the floor creaks
ominously every time, but Grace is shouting
wordless now, shoving her fingers in almost deep
enough to gag Anissa and *shaking*, and Anissa
feels herself get even *wetter*, and nothing
short of a swipe with a towel will get her dry
enough to get the friction she needs, and she
couldn't look away from Grace even if she could
make herself *try*.

All of that golden skin and all of that *muscle*,
tensing and flexing and flexing *more*, and
she's groaning and stroking Anissa's forearm
like a *dick* and Anissa hears herself whimper
and watches Grace jerk and shudder with
orgasm and whimpers *again*.

Grace pulls her fingers out of Anissa's mouth.
"Nnnn. *Fuck*, princess."

"Say my *name*," and that comes out a lot...
*louder* than she meant it to, but Grace just
grins lazily down at her.

"Anissa."

And *slides* down Anissa's thigh like it's
playground equipment, landing hard enough
on her belly that it would knock the wind out
of her if she wasn't so dense.

"*Anissa*."

"Grace --"

"Anissa, Anissa, Anissa... I'm *so* gonna fuck
the hell out of you now. Okay?"

Anissa blinks. "I... okay."

Grace winks and scoots back until she can get
one hand under Anissa's knee and then lifts it,
resting it on her shoulder. She shoves Anissa's
other thigh out wide and stares down at
Anissa's sex, licking the edges of her teeth.
"Well, hello, cutie..."

"I don't think it's going to answer you, Grace."

"You never know in *this* crowd."

"Do me a favor and *don't* tell me that story."

Grace smirks at her and knocks Anissa's hand
away with a casual swat, pressing hard on
Anissa's clit with her thumb and rubbing.
"Depends. You gonna be a good girl?"

"I -- oh..."

"Say yes."

Anissa takes a deep ragged breath and pushes
against Grace's thumb. "Y-yes..."

"Mmm. Say 'fuck me, Grace.'"

"*Fuck*, Grace --"

"Heh. Close enough."

And then Grace slides down and twists and
shoves *in*, all the way to the second knuckle
in one long, hard *thrust* that makes Grace
arch and -- that was probably a whine. God,
Grace is going to make her sound like a porn
movie. Grace *wants* her to sound like a porn
movie. "Oh God..."

"Yeah. Can you get off like this, or...?"

"Just don't stop."

"Anything you say, 'nissa." And then Grace licks
the ankle of her boot and starts pushing in
rhythmically, *fucking* her, and it's just the
same as a dick and it's completely different.
*Better*. She's never had a man finger her,
and it's always different when she does it
*herself*, but Grace's fingers have all of the
*skill* that fingers should, and they're *huge*.

Long and hard and *twisting* in her, pushing
and stretching and no, she *can't* usually
come just from this, but right now she just
wants Grace to keep doing exactly that, making
something shudder inside her like a struck bell,
filling her up and *riding* her, and if Anissa
keeps her eyes closed she doesn't have to see
Grace watching her.

She can just *feel* it, all that heat and lust like
she's some perfect sex toy, like the way she's
moving and moaning is doing it for Grace just
as much as Grace's fingers are doing it for her.

"*Please*," she says, and she doesn't really
know what she's begging for, but when Grace starts
fucking her faster Anissa decides it must've been
just that. It's good. It's... god. The floor is hard
under her back and Grace's teeth are sharp in her
ankle, even through the boot, and she's pretty
sure she didn't envision this as part of her brand
new life as a superhero, but it's *good*.

Even better when she starts playing with her
own nipples and Grace spits out her name like
just another curse.

"God fucking *damn*, you're hot," and now it's
fast *and* hard, and Anissa drags her free leg
up and plants her foot and *bucks* into it,
making herself *scream* with it, louder when
Grace twists her fingers *again* and presses
her thumb back against her clit.

"Oh God -- oh *God* --"

"Gonna come for me, baby?"

And she can't... she can't control anything
anymore. She hears a thud and a crack and
*knows* she's banging her head against the floor
and her heel is slipping on the sweat on Grace's
back, Grace's *bare* back and if she opens her
eyes... *fuck*. She's *moving* Grace, and Grace's
breasts are bouncing with every thrust, and she's
biting her lip and sweating just as much as
*Anissa* is and that tongue is peeking out again
and Anissa comes shouting, grinding against
Grace's hand.

And groaning with every flex because they make
her feel Grace that much more.

"I... *damn*."

Grace snickers and shifts and Anissa flexes around
her again.

"No, stay there. Just... for a minute."

"Mmm. Sure." And Grace wiggles her fingers, making
Anissa shudder a little more before shrugging Anissa's
leg off her shoulder and moving down to lie beside
her.

Anissa tries to catch her breath.

And then just gives up and *looks* up at Grace,
because... she's beautiful. She always is, in that wild,
just-might-break-your-legs way, but now she's
also...

There's something almost gentle about the look on
her face, and something smug as *hell*, and
something just kind of calm. It brings out the
*woman* in her features, more than anything else,
and makes Anissa want to... stare exactly like
she's doing.

Maybe it just looks like she's sex-stupid.

She *feels* sex-stupid.

"You know, they say this stuff is *good* for your
nails," Grace says idly.

This 'stuff' being what Anissa's busily leaking all
over Grace's fingers. "I think you read better
magazines than I do."

Grace looks even *more* smug. "As if that's a
shock." She wiggles her fingers again. "Sooner
or later I'm gonna be hungry."

"Aren't your arms long enough to reach the
cordless? Order us a pizza."

"My arms *aren't* actually long enough for me
to open the door from here, Anissa."

"I'll let you move when the food arrives."

Grace snorts. "Well, aren't *we* demanding?"

Anissa wants to turn her head to hide her smile,
but it would be kind of obvious, considering their
positions, so... she doesn't bother. "You're the
one who wanted to be a good host. You have to
take care of your guest's needs."

Grace rests her head on her fist and *crooks*
her fingers. "Do I?"

Anissa moans and feels herself flex again, and if
she reduces her density she can... moan a little
more. The intensity is amazing. "Yeah, you
really do."

"Then in *that* case..." And Grace pulls out,
stands, and *lifts* Anissa, throwing her over
her shoulder --

"Hey --"

And taking her for a walk.

Presumably towards the bedroom, though all
Anissa can really see is small of Grace's back.
Well. She supposes she asked for this.

Anissa grins to herself and licks Grace, tasting
sweat. Grace makes a yipping noise and swats
the back of her thigh.

She's definitely taking the woman out to get
her nails done. Something nice and *pink*.

So they'll match.

end.